


Ad lucem venire

by neurodramaticfool



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Kinda, Latin, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neurodramaticfool/pseuds/neurodramaticfool
Summary: There's things that can only be done in the dark, or so it seems, because then they're done in the light too.Marcus is quite ashamed, at first, but they end up being happy and unashamed.Marcus also somehow is afraid that his gods will see what he does with Esca, and he tries to hide from them, at first.





	Ad lucem venire

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I mean it was inevitable that I wrote here given I keep reading here.  
> I hope this is acceptable, I hope this makes sense, I hope my Latin is decent although I've never written in Latin but only translated from it.  
> Anyways, I just thought of this once when I was thinking about Horace - which happens frequently, alas.

The first time Marcus had indulged himself - and kissed him and laid with him - had been a night with no moon. Few stars were visible and the point is that Esca didn't even think about this detail until years later. He remembers thinking that Romans were weird, but that was almost ordinary.

He starts to remember also why he had thought that. 

 

Marcus had been tired, proved by a day spent discussing with too many people clad in togas with red stripes. Senators who wanted to hear it all again, the Eagle, the tribes, the heroism, the sheer thrill of the triumph of  your people.

Marcus hated it, and Esca knew it. He saw it in the way the other man’s shoulders hunched, in the way his words became more slurred, less musical, less careful. 

When they got home, that evening, Marcus was restless. Esca knew that when he was like this he should only try to make him think about something else. So he started rambling about things he had seen at the market the day before and, the first thing he knew next, Marcus was less than an inch away from him and was whispering nonsense in Latin.

“What was that, again?” Esca had asked, in his own language, as that was what they were trying to do.

“Telling that tale, over and over,” answered Marcus in Latin, “everytime I feel that fear again".

“You were never scared,” Esca pointed out, and they were still too close, but it was one of those days and it was just what happened. 

“I was terrified. Of losing you,” Marcus breathed out, and then, a heartbeat later, he added, almost pleading with that accent of his, “Esca”.

Esca was undone, not for the first time, but Marcus never did anything. They were always left with this, this consciousness that they were  _ everything  _ to each other, and the bitterness of never acting on it.

But this time Marcus actually kissed him, and Esca couldn’t even pretend it was not what he had wanted for  _ years _ . 

It was the middle of the night when Marcus got up from his bed and he was smiling, genuine, pure. He looked out of the window and sighed. Esca didn't quite catch everything he said.

“- _ confisus nescio quid, sed nemo videre potuit _ ". 

“What?” Esca asked, getting closer to him.

“ _ Hoc feci - tecum, Esca - hoc, confisus nescio quid, et nemo videre potuit”. _

_ I did that - with you, Esca - that, hoping I don't know what, and no one could see",  _ he repeated, patient, but Esca didn’t understand the last part. 

Yes, Romans were weird. But he dragged Marcus back to  _ their  _ bed all the same.

 

It kept happening like that, for a while. Dark nights, not even a light on. Esca couldn’t complain, never even wanted to. With all that he’d lost, the sheer thought of having found something so strong to bond him with Marcus was more than satisfying, more than satisfaction, even. 

They were lucky, winter favoured them with a lot of dark nights, not just new moons, but storms and clouds and not a star to be seen, not an inch of the moon. 

When spring came, though, back came the stars. 

Marcus looked more anxious now, the times he started covering himself up immediately after, as if he was afraid of something, of  _ someone _ . And then, half dressed - too much dressed, if Esca had a say in this - he sighed and got back to what had been Esca’s bed, and was now, more often than not, a shared one. 

“Did someone see?” Esca would ask, not quite understanding  _ who  _ would, given their location in the outskirts of town and that it was night and that there wouldn’t be a single sane person who would go and spy on an equestrian household for sport. 

“ _ Nemo _ ,” Marcus would answer,  _ no one _ , falling asleep after a while. 

Esca still believe that nothing made sense, but he was happy like that. Happy with a weird Roman who was afraid of people staring. 

He would listen to Marcus’ soft, steady, breathing and smile. Yeah, happy.

 

And then, one night, it happened differently. Esca had come back from a trip, he had sold some of their products in another city, and he had only been away a couple days. But that seemed to do the trick. When Marcus would have usually gotten up and dressed, he stayed, skin on skin. 

“No one’s worrying you tonight?” Esca whispered, covering both of them with a blanket. 

“ _ Sine spectare, si vult _ ”. Esca turned to face him, still not getting it, after  _ months _ , after, oh gods, almost a year.

“Marcus,” he stared at him, studying his  _ beautiful _ face, “Marcus, who are we talking about, who should we let see, if they want?”.

Marcus looked lost, maybe he thought Esca knew. “Don’t worry,” he blurted out in Esca’s tongue, and Esca didn’t, he was busy doing something else entirely at that point. 

 

Two years they spent in the night, all in all, for in the day they kept acting like before. They would smile at each other, talk to each other, worry for each other, if need be, but it was like there was a line, that neither of them wanted to cross. 

So, when Marcus pulled Esca in for a kiss on his forehead in the middle of the afternoon, Esca was quite taken aback. 

“What was that? What are you doing?” he sounded almost angry, but he wasn’t, or maybe he was, if he could have just done that for it to be alright why hadn’t they done it for longer?

_ “Adflictus videbaris _ ”.  _ You looked upset _ . 

Esca stared at him - he had been upset, sad, even, because chilly days which required staying outside upset him, and reminded him a bit of his childhood, too. Esca stared at him and smiled, slowly, Marcus mirroring his smile. 

Esca kissed him, on his lips, and then on his cheek, and then on his nose, and then again on his jaw, and then he was kissing him full on his lips, and then there was Marcus’ lips parting and his tongue running on Esca’s lips, and - gods help Esca, they were standing in the middle of their yard and the sun was warming them whenever the wind would slow down a tad, and that,  _ that _ , was the best feeling ever. 

Marcus laughed heartily, moving Esca’s hair from his eyes, then a flicker of worry went through his eyes, just a second, just the briefest of shadows.

“ _ Quid est?”  _ asked Esca, in Latin,  _ what is it?. _

“ _ Mithras, _ ” breathed Marcus, half prayer, half interjection, “ _ mirum dictu, modo sentivi semper amaturum te _ ”.

Esca’s eyes widened -  _ it’s strange to say, I felt it now, I’m going to love you forever _ \- then he rested his head against Marcus’ shoulder, both staring at their land, where crops would be growing again soon. 

_ “Ita ego quoque, Marce. Ego quoque. _ ”  _ Me too _ . 

 

When Esca understood everything they had gone to town for the market, together, a rare occurrence, and they had stayed in town to go visit Marcus’ uncle, who, somehow, seemed to always know what was going on between them. 

Esca even suspected he had started speaking and understanding Esca’s tongue, just to be fully able to eavesdrop when Marcus and Esca both came to meet him. 

Marcus was talking with his uncle, idly chatting about business and health and such things. 

Esca was wandering through the library, looking for something to read in those winter days when the land didn’t need them. Marcus had taught him how to read poetry, how to enjoy it, and he wanted to find new poems. 

He didn’t quite find Horace, it was more like Horace fell onto his head from a too-crowded shelf.

The paper was starting to wear thin on that volume, Esca noticed. 

He unrolled the scroll.  _ Satires _ . He started reading a random poem. Marcus found him still reading, having gone on from a poem to another one. 

“So that was all  _ that _ was about,  _ Marce _ ?” Esca asked, eyeing his- his whatever Marcus was to him, not that he needed a word.

“What was about what?” he sounded confused, but he didn’t switch language,  _ this _ meant a bit more privacy. 

“The fear about being seen. The moon who tries to hide when she sees obscene things....?”.

“Oh,” Marcus seemed to start to understand. “Well, that’s a myth, it’s a poem, it’s fiction, you don’t believe I believe-” Esca had raised an eyebrow.

“Esca, it would be silly if I thought the moon would stare at  _ us _ , or the stars did, or the sun, or my god who is the sun who is Mithras, or… that  _ would  _ be silly”.

Esca chuckled, taking his hand, checking if anyone was in sight. “That’s a  _ bit _ silly, yes, but you lot believe all kinds of silly things”. 

“Like what?”   
“Like that I would care if things are silly”. Esca stated, before placing a soft kiss on Marcus’ palm. Marcus actually  _ blushed _ . 

 

Marcus’ uncle had seen, of course, as had Mithras - if he bothered looking down on mortals - and all the stars, and the moon, and many other people in many other moments of those lives. And yet, Esca thought that Marcus believed that none of those would try to hide, no one would cover their eyes deeming them obscene, they would just turn their eyes because they would realise some things were not for them to be seen - hells, even Marcus’ uncle left them alone when Marcus got down on his knees to kiss Esca who was seating in the library, Horace forgotten somewhere around there. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think all Latin is translated within the fic?  
> If not ask me?  
> If something is wrong also tell me?  
> If you liked it of course tell me!
> 
> Oh, and the poem is Horace, Satire, I, 8.


End file.
